A Mystery of Sorts
by Sinhe
Summary: This was written for the guessme summary challenge. What do you do when you find a dead girl? Investigate, or course!


_Title_: A Mystery of Sorts

_Rating_: PG-13 For vague violence. And you'll-only-see-it-if-you're-looking-for-it slash. Oh, and language.

_Warnings_: I have trouble writing action, so sorry. Also, not beta'd

_Summary_: Some girls from the circus ran into the Newsies. And at this circus some odd things are happening. Can the boys help?

_Disclaimer_: I don't own anything Newsie-related.

_Notes_: For the summary challenge thing. This story is proof that if you write a stupid summary, you'll get a stupid story.

_A Mystery of Sorts_

Cindy launched herself off the back of the horse, landed on her feet, and bowed deeply. She paused to crack each of the knuckles in her hands before turning to the watching ringmaster.

            "S'that ok?"

            "Yeah, Cindy, good job. You can go back to your trailer now. The next show'll be tomorrow afternoon. Be ready by noon, ok?" The ringmaster was short, slightly shorter than Cindy herself. He tipped his hat off to her, and she nodded back at him, blonde curls falling in her eyes.

            "Sure, sure, boss." Cindy turned on her heel, and strode quickly out of the main tent. She walked past the freaks, and carnival games, until she found the staff trailers. She hurried inside of her trailer, fumbled for a cigarette, and went outside again. As she lit up, she began to remove the bobby pins from her hair.

            She stuffed the bobby pins into her pocket, brought the smoke to her lips, and listened to approaching footsteps. She turned to the direction the footsteps were coming from, and breathed out smoke. Recognition flashed across her face.

            "Hi," she said, her voice husky and deep for that of a woman.

            "Hello," the other replied. Cindy snuffed her cigarette on the side of the trailer, and cracked her knuckles again, one by one. "Stop doing that. It irritates the fuck out of me."

            "What's _your_ problem?" Cindy asked, and then snorted.

            "Just stop doing it or I may have to stop it for you." Cindy just shot the figure a dirty look.

            "What is it that bothers you again?" She said, being purposefully sarcastic. "Was it this?" She cracked her knuckles again, slowly.

            A growl. Then, a small shrill scream.

            Silence.

**……**

            The sun was shining brightly; the day was hot and cloudless. Dutchy wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

            "Why are we here, again?" Dutchy asked, chewing on the tip of a toothpick.

            "'Cause the carnival is only going to be here for a week or so, and we have the day off, Dutchy," Bumlets replied, rolling his eyes.

            "But…. But…."

            "Come off it, Dutchy," Skittery broke in, shoving Dutchy lightly, "we're here, so deal with it." Dutchy just sighed in reply, running a hand through his hair. Swifty snickered and threw an arm around Bumlets' shoulders.

            "Yeah, Dutchy. 'Sides, you might win something at one of the carnival games." Dutchy perked up a bit.

            "I guess you're right, I mean, I am okay at the – Aahh! Dead person!"

            "What game is that? I've never heard of it," Swifty asked, puzzled.

            "No! Real dead person! Right there!" Dutchy pointed, his arm shaking slightly. And, indeed, around the corner of one of the tents, almost obscured by the brightly colored flaps, was the lolling head of a young woman. Her eyes stared blankly off into space, her mouth was open in a silent scream, and her hair was mussed, half held back by bobby pins. A snuffed cigarette next to her body.

            The other three Newsies let out a collective gasp. A puddle of blood had spread around her and sunk into the ground, staining it darkly.

            "…Shit." Skittery mumbled, eyes wide. Dutchy nodded silently, using a hand to cover his mouth, a look of horror on his face.

            "What do we do with her?" Bumlets asked, eyes riveted on the dead girl.

            "What do you do with who?" A female voice said from behind them. As one, they turned, and found them looking at a petite redhead with her hands on the hips of her elaborate red costume.

            After a few moments of silence, Dutchy spoke up.

            "We, uh. We found this girl. And she's, uhm, dead. What do we do now?"

            "Dead?" The girl asked, raising an eyebrow. The boys nodded and moved aside, giving the redhead a view of the body. "Shit! Cindy? Fuck! Stay _right there._" The girl ran off, her voluminous skirt bouncing, and her hair swishing from side to side. Swifty looked over to the girl, and then back at the other boys.

            "I wonder what happened to her?" Swifty asked. Dutchy spat his chewed up toothpick on the ground.

            A few minutes later, the redhead was back, dragging two other girls behind her. One was tall and blond, dressed as a military officer, she held a crop in one hand, and had an annoyed look on her face. The other had tightly curled brown hair, ringlets that fell just below her chin. She looked anxious, and her hands were worrying at the edge of her purple corset. Her skirt looked to be made up of many purple, blue, and black scarves.

            "This better not be some sort of joke, Felicia," the blond said, her voice a warning.

            "It's not, Icey. Just look," the redhead, Felicia, said, and pointed over to the body, Cindy. Icey's eyes widened, and her face changed somehow, the hard look melting from her face.

            "Shit. Fuck! She's our best rider!" Icey turned a wary look over to the Newsies. "How do we know that you didn't kill her?"

            "Oh, come _on_, Icey. Do you see any bloodstains? Plus, that blond looks like he's going to vomit," Felicia rolled her eyes.

            "Do you girls even care that she's _dead_? You seem more concerned with your show than anything else," Bumlets spoke up, ignoring the comment about Dutchy. He did seem like he was going to throw up.

            "She is…_was_ kind of a bitch. I mean, I didn't _want_ her to die, but I didn't like her that much. She couldn't stop cracking her knuckles, and it annoyed to fuck out of everyone. But she was the best. This will hurt the show a lot," Felicia tossed a wave of red hair from her face.

            The brunette finally spoke up, her voice quiet and almost timid.

            "I, for one, am more disturbed by the fact that there is a murderer on the loose, who may or may not want to kill more of the carnival staff." She looked up from her skirt as she talked, making eye contact with all of the others.

            "Sure, Therese, but what can we do about that?" Felicia asked, her voice genuine and without spite.

            "We search for a motive, and talk to other people who saw Cindy last. I know that she and Mr. Furnam were practicing late last night."

            "Should we talk to him first?" Felicia asked, looking in interest at Cindy's body.

            "Probably. But we don't want him to panic. We should investigate the bo-"

            "You girls are acting like this is some kind of murder mystery! A girl died! The killer is still on the loose!" Dutchy burst out, looking distressed and slightly sick. The girls turned to look at him, surprised. Icey glared at him.

            "What would you rather us do? Get killed?"

            "At least stop acting like this is some kind of fun activity. Stop acting like sleuths. Because you're not. You're just girls who don't realize that they could get _killed_."

"Who're _you_ to talk?" Icey glared, her voice condescending.

"Someone in touch with reality." Dutchy crossed his arms, and snorted in disgust at Icey. Felicia and Therese shared a look. Dutchy looked over to Skittery, Swifty, and Bumlets. "Can we go now?" he asked, and walked off without looking back. Skittery hurried to catch up with him, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. Bumlets turned to the girls.

"I know we can't stop you. So if you need help, come on over to the lodging house sometime. We'll help. Even Dutchy." Swifty nodded, and Bumlets smiled at them and grabbed Swifty's wrist. They walked in the direction Dutchy and Swifty had gone.

Felicia, Therese, and Icey exchanged glances and walked off into the other direction.

**……**

            Later that evening, Icey was walking to her trailer. The day had yielded no new information, and Therese, followed by Felicia, had decided, against Icey's more fervent wishes, to ask the newsboys tomorrow for whatever help they could offer. Icey rolled her eyes at the thought. What could those rats do that the three girls hadn't? What use would they be?

            Lost in thought, Icey stumbled into a firm…something. She looked up, saw that she had bumped into a person, nodded, and continued on her way. She stopped as the figure flung out an arm to block her. She stepped back and glared at them.

            "What do _you_ want?" She asked in contempt, and obvious recognition.

            "I want you to stop fucking glaring at me. You think you're better than everyone else, little miss know-it-all? Fuck you."

A grunt, and then a thump. A snicker.

Silence.

**……**

The next morning, Dutchy was woken early, a hand shaking him awake. He groaned and opened his eyes to slits, blinded by the new light beaming into the bunkroom.

"What's it?" he mumbled, fighting sleep.

"The girls are here," a voice, Bumlets, whispered anxiously, "they say they need our help."

"What are you waking me up for?"

"Well, you were there yesterday. You could help."

"Not if that that girl, Icey, is with them."

A long pause, Bumlets spoke again hesitantly.

"She's not. She was killed last night." Dutchy was instantly awake, eyes widening in shock.

"Okay. Let's go."

They joined Skittery and Swifty on the stairs.

Therese and Felicia were standing outside awkwardly, faces pale and drawn. They looked up as the boys approached.

"We'll help," Bumlets said softly.

"Really?" Therese asked, "Thanks a lot."

**……**

They searched all day, going over everything they could learn about the bodies, trying, and failing, to discover a link between the two, and talking to anyone who could possibly be relevant.

They found nothing.

They met up at sundown in the main tent. They all sat down in the bleachers, prepared to share what knowledge they had gained.

            "Nothing," Dutchy said, shaking his head slowly.

            "Yeah, me too," Skittery replied, sighing softly. They looked around at everyone nodding their agreement.

            They sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Therese stood up.

            "There's only one thing left for us to do," she said, "we have to split up, and watch the grounds this evening to see if we can find him. We'll each take a portion of the area. If we can't find anything tonight, then we'll just have to give up."

            Everyone nodded, what else could they do?

**……**

            Skittery wandered through the closed up carnival games and food sellers. It was late, and dark, and he was bored. He'd been pacing up and down the abandoned isles for hours, and was just about ready to close up shop, and head home for some sleep.

            He looked up suddenly as a scream, a female scream, tore past him. He started to run.

**……**

            Dutchy had stayed round the main tent, and had been walking in circles around it and through it for a long time. The time had crept past at impossibly slow speeds.

He was just about to sit down and some much needed rest, when a high-pitched scream clawed the air around him. He shivered, and hurried towards it.

**……**

Bumlets had been petting one of the horses. He had chosen to prowl the animal cages for signs of foul play, and had gotten quickly sidetracked. The animals were beautiful, and he hadn't seen anything strange.

He jerked his hand away as the horse tossed its head. A jagged cry split the night, and he walked right towards it.

**……**

Swifty had fallen asleep among the abandoned freak tents. He had seen no movement, and the occupants were sleeping in their trailers. He had sat down, for just a second, to rest his eyes.

He was woken sharply by a shout of pain. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He stood and trotted off to face the danger.

**……**

Skittery, Bumlets, and Dutchy reached the reached the trailers at the about the same time. Therese had been left there, while Felicia had taken the ticket booth farther away.

Therese was lying on the ground, one hand pressed to her stomach. Her hands were covered in blood; it was oozing past her fingers at a trickle. Her breath came hard and fast, and she gave out a thin groan of pain.

The boys stood around her, speechless.

"Shit, Therese, did you see who did it?" Was the first thing out of Dutchy's mouth.

"What can we do to help you?" Bumlets asked, concern scrawled across his face.

Therese gasped, coughed, and finally managed to say,

"Felicia… it was Felicia," she gasped out, "Go find her, get her, I'll be okay."

"Yeah right, you'll be ok," a familiar voice growled from the shadows. "I only wish I'd managed to kill you faster, so you couldn't blab on me."

"Shit, why Felicia? Why did you kill them?" Dutchy burst out.

"Why? Because Cindy's knuckle cracking fucking pissed me off, and Icey? Well, Icey was just a bitch. She was always so fucking condescending," Felicia sneered. "They both thought they were better than me, part of the fucking elite. And if Therese wasn't so smart, I wouldn't've had to kill her too."

"What're you going to do now, huh? We outnumber you, four to one," Skittery said, glaring at the redheaded girl.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? My place in this circus is in the bigtop, I throw knives." She fanned out her left hand, displaying three glinting metal knives. In her right she had brought out a fourth, poised and ready to throw.

"Oh, shit," Skittery gasped out.

"Yeah, shit," Felicia replied, grinning wildly.

**……**

Swifty had been the farthest away of all the boys. He slowed as he neared the trailers, and heard muffles words. He peeked out from behind nearest trailer, trying to figure out what was going on. He could see Felicia's back, and the other three boys were looking at her in horror, and fear. Swifty could see Therese's bloody body, and could hear her rapid, labored breathing.

What was he supposed to do now?

**……**

Dutchy stared in horror at Felicia.

"C'mon, Felicia, don't do this," He half-whispered.

"Why not? If I let you all go, if I let _any_ of you go, you'll just turn me in. I have to kill _all_ of you." Dutchy was about to reply, when he saw a flicker of movement behind her. We glanced over, and saw Swifty's Asian head peeking out from around a corner. He was close enough. He could grab her.

"Swifty! Grab her!" He screamed, as loud as her could. Swifty jumped, startled, and then began to run. Felicia started to turn. Dutchy started to sprint.

**……**

Bumlets could only watch in startled fear as Dutchy and Swifty ran towards Felicia from opposite directions. She turned, startled, and let her knife loose. She hadn't had the time to aim after turning so abruptly. He saw it skim past Swifty's arm. Swifty didn't even glance at it. He reached Felicia, and grabbed her by the arms.

She struggled like a cat, growling and spitting. It took both Dutchy and Swifty to hold her still. Dutchy hit her over the head with one of her own knives; she collapsed like a stone.

Freed from paralysis, Bumlets rushed over to Therese. She smiled at him wanly,

"I think the bleeding's mostly stopped. I think I'll be OK."

**……**

Psuedo-Epilogue 

"So that's what happened?"

"Yeah. That's how it actually happened."

"What happened to that girl?"

"Felicia? She went to jail."

"No, the other one."

"Therese was OK. Her manager got her a doctor, and then she moved on with the carnival."

"And the Newsies?"

"They just went back to work. And after that, everything was normal."

_FIN!_


End file.
